


The Locked Room

by blodwite



Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls Online, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Elder Scrolls Lore, Gen, Vampires, the locked room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 21:20:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12329109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blodwite/pseuds/blodwite
Summary: An apprentice lockpick is forced to teach her master a lesson of her own.





	The Locked Room

Yana hummed quietly as she worked.

Had anyone been sitting with her at the work table they would have undoubtedly been annoyed. Of course, no one was actually sitting with her. They had all quickly realized that she was different from them. Within a week it had become apparent that her careful maneuvers with a lock pick was not an apprentice’s hesitation and that made her strange, a soft anathema.

The casual chatting and vague friendliness afforded to her by her fellow students was abandoned, imitating the criticism their master had for her lack of speed.

Not that she minded their avoidance of her. Yana had no need of thieves and future blackmailers as friends.

She was merely here to learn.

Her calloused hands worked the pick with slow ease. She twisted it this way and that, mapping out the shape of its innards. Around her her peer’s worked just as diligently. This batch of students was almost done with Arthcamu’s training and they were working on rather advanced locks.

One man had already given up, slamming his chair back from the table and stomping out of the room in frustration. The light clinging of broken picks hitting the ground as he stood followed him out the door.

Two of the others snickered as they watched him leave, pausing in their own work. The third stayed quiet, too focused on his on own work. His hands were poised in a most precarious position and with a small movement and a soft click his lock sprang open.

Arthcamu made his way over, examining the lock and then finally congratulating the wood elf. On his way back to his spot on the wall, where he stood and watched his students work, Arthcamu swiped the lock left behind by the student who had walked out.

Yana watched discreetly as swift, experienced fingers opened the lock before he’d even made it to his favored spot to lean against the wall.

The one who had already opened his lock had the talent to become a master lock pick one day. As opposed to the one who had stormed out, he would best ply his talents elsewhere. Given his stature he’d best serve as a mercenary or a bodyguard, though with his moral disposition he was just as soon to be a bandit, unfortunately. The other two were thieves’ guild aspirants, they worked hard to open their locks but lacked the innate talent the wood elf and Arthcamu possessed.

Yana lacked it too, she knew that. The others, baring the nord who had left, did not know that. They would work their craft and become decent at it, good even. Though those like the wood elf would always beat out their hard work with their own virtuoso.

That was why she poured over her locks so. It she could understand it, know the way it worked on the inside, then there was no way that she wouldn’t be able to open it. Sometimes, especially on the harder, more intricately designed locks, it would take hours. She’d still be in the small workroom, hunched over a lock long after everyone, even Arthcamu, had left.

That her behavior annoyed her master was no secret amongst them. He’d openly expressed his disdain of her timely explorations. A few times he’d even struck her in frustration. Time was everything for a thief. It could make or break them, make them rich or throw them in jail. Arthcamu had tried to instill this within her, but nothing he did could break her of her habits.

Yana understood where he was coming from. She’d paid him in advance, and he was trying to teach her the skill in the only context and way that he could. If she were intending to be a thief, perhaps she’d take his words to heart.

A thief she was not. No, she was an honorable Redguard. Thieving was not her way. It was the knowledge she was here for, something about the way two little tools could spring open what was meant for a key to do was lovely. She’d fallen for the scent of the oil they used to lubricate the lock, the small clinging noises the metal made as she worked.

No, that wasn’t the reason she’d originally come here, but she’d come to adore the act of lockpicking nonetheless.

Yana was a blacksmith by trade and talent. That was her virtuoso. When she’d heard tales of a master lockpick who taught the skill for a price to willing students in one of the seedier taverns in her hometown, she’d known that this was what she needed.

The skills and knowledge of lock picking were important to Yana because she wanted to develop locks that were impossible to pick.

It did not matter that she didn’t pick the locks quickly, because she would never be in a situation where it mattered. Not that she could tell Arthcamu that. A thief would not appreciate a blacksmith making locks that they couldn’t get through. These people were rough, and she didn’t doubt that there was a possibility that she could be killed.

After a few hours, Yana finally clicked the lock open and sighed happily. She was almost done with her designs. Soon she’d be able to leave this place.

“Well done.”

Yana gasped at the voice behind her and she spun around in her seat to face who had snuck up on her.

Arthcamu grinned. “Of course, were you in the field, after taking so many hours you’d have been discovered and killed.”

She let out the breath that she wasn’t aware that she had been holding, she hadn’t even heard him enter the room and walked up behind her.

She gave a slow shake of her head and opened her lips to respond. A soft cry from her own lips cut her off as he grabbed her upper arm and pulled her from her seat.

“What are you doing?” Yana gasped as he pulled her across the room. Arthcamu ignored her of course, and she tried to pull against him but, for all her blacksmithing, he was stronger than she.

She was dragged throughout the old fort, her questions falling on deaf ears. They past none one on their way and she worried that everyone had left.

Soon enough Arthcamu was bringing her through the part of the fort where the students had been forbidden from entering. The old building was in disrepair here, but he brought her before a pristine, reinforced door. It seemed out of place amongst the rest of the old stronghold.

Keeping his grip on her arm tight, Arthcamu drew a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. The room was barren, aside from a large, dusty create that was settled in the middle. She was thrown against this crate roughly, and slammed the door behind her.

Yana raised her head frantically as she heard the click of the lock. A quick look around showed her that there were no windows, and no door other than the one she had been shoved through. She rose to her feet unsteadily, fear making her shake.

Arthcamu’s voice drifted in from behind the door. “This is a test for my advanced students,” he laughed before he continued. “See if you can escape.”

Oh. She must have annoyed him too much with her slow pace, he was trying to punish her for her waywardness. No matter, she could open this door, even if it took her a few hours. She’d be hungry by the time she escaped, but no matter. Soon enough she’d be leaving this place forever.

Pulling her tools from her pouch, Yana stuck her wire into the lock, wiggling it this way and that. Trying to glean just how this particular lock worked. It if was for advanced students then it must be particularly hard to open. She was intrigued, wondering just what made it so difficult.

After a few minutes Arthcamu’s horrible laugh came from behind the door again. “Perhaps I should mention that this is a test of speed. You see the crate behind you? It contains a vampire ancient who has been locked in here for many months. It is absolutely ravenous. In a few minutes’ time, the sun will have completely set, and if you have not opened the door, you will be nothing but a bloodless husk.”

Fear stabbed her lower abdomen with an icicle and she paused in her work. Surely he was joking? She knew that those who were here had dubious morals, but surely he would not endanger his pupil, who had already paid, just to teach a lesson?

There was a faint rustling in the crate, and all doubts were washed from Yana’s mind. She jammed the wire back into the lock, thrust the pegs into the pressure plate, and shoved the door open.

In her haste she had no balance and fell gracelessly to the floor in a heap. She heard Arthcamu’s dreadful laugh yet again.

“So, now you’ve learned the value of fast work.”

Yana shoved herself to her feet and fled from the stronghold, trying to stop the tears that trailed down her face. She heard the door to the room slam shut as she ran from the hall.

She only slowed when she was far from the stronghold, her blacksmith training and natural Redguard stamina getting her close to the nearby town.

Chest heaving, Yana walked along the road, barely seeing the scenery around her. It was snowing and she was hardly dressed for the weather but she didn’t feel the cold. She wasn’t feeling much of anything right then.

Soon enough she had made it to the nord city, boots soaked and tear stained cheeks reddened by the cold and the wind. The innkeeper seemed surprised to see a guest step in so late, but since the maid also seemed concerned perhaps it was her appearance that was the issue.

“Dearie are you alright?” The maid had hurried to her side, clasping her hand on Yana’s shoulder.

Yana swayed, leaning into her touch. “I… I don't know actually…”

The maid cooed over her, bringing her in and seating her next to the fire. The bard stepped over too, and between the two of them and the innkeeper, Yana was quickly swathed in a warm blanket with a bowl of soup in her lap. Her boots were off drying by the fire, along with her shirt and pants.

She was wearing a slip under the blanket, loaned to her by the bard who turned out to be the innkeeper’s daughter.

They wouldn’t take her money, though Yana had insisted that she had plenty to spare. Thoring even gave her a bed for the night for free.

Yana thanked them profusely and once she was dry and fed, she found her way to her room and slept off her lingering fears and shock.

When she woke the next day Yana found determination.

Stretching, she crawled out from under the covers and found her clothes. They were a little stiff from their adventure in the snow, but they would do for now.

The inn was bustling already, the townsfolk and travelers sitting down for their midday meal. Karita, the bard, was at her lute, playing an instrumental tune while the maid, Abelone was at the fire, cooking up more lunch.

Yana took a seat at a bench, overhearing some men complain to what appeared to be a priest about an epidemic of bad dreams.

A plate containing a grilled chicken breast and a eidar cheese wedge was placed before her, and Yana turned and greeted Abelone with a smile. “Thank you.”

“It is no problem, dearie. Glad to see you’re better now.” With that Abelone returned to her duties.

Slowly, Yana cut into her food. She wasn’t really thinking about the food but about what had happened the evening before. Arthcamu had actually been willing to kill her… he had a vampire locked in an Aedra forsaken crate and was willing to throw students into the room with it.

The man was evil and Yana had no intention of letting him do what he did to her to someone else. To leave a ravenous vampire unattended was a reckless hazard. Honestly, what was he thinking? Why push his luck dealing with something like that?

Nothing good could come of it.

When Yana looked down she realized that she had eaten all of the food that had been given to her. Standing she brought the plate back to the maid.

“Need anything else?” Abelone asked, placing the plate in a stack of dirty dishes.

“Actually, Abelone, could you direct me to the smithy?”

#

Yana spent hours tinkering at the forge. It had taken a bit of convincing to get Rustleif to allow her access to the smithy, but luckily his wife was Redguard as well. After some reminiscing about Hammerfell and light conversation, Seren had done the convincing for her.

Long after Rustleif had retired indoors Yana worked the forge. Well into the night she shaped the metal into the parts she needed. Rustleif had allowed her to use his supplies as well as his tools, as she wasn’t working with that much metal at all. What she was doing could be accomplished with scraps, though it was tedious, detail oriented work. She had to take care because she had never done this particular kind of work before, and a few times she had to start a piece over.

She hadn’t really planed on finishing her work in one go. No, this work she had intended to make a piece at a time, working slowly and testing it as she went. It was a design meant to be refined with trial and error.

Even when she had first asked the location of the forge, she had at least intended to sleep that night.

Her conversation with Seren is what spurred her to action. That insane thief, Arthcamu, had a bloodly vampire poised to attack the entire town. Seren was pregnant and if anything happened to her… Yana didn’t think that she’d be able to live with herself if that happened.

That was why she stood here, turning her now finished piece over in her hands with bleary eyes.

“A lock, eh?” Rustleif’s voice, husky with sleep broke Yana out of her reverie. She jumped a bit at the unexpected sound, her heart stuttering in her chest for just a moment.

“You startled me.” Yana gasped, pressing a free hand to her chest in an effort to calm her heart.

The nord chuckled as he made his way over to where the Redguard woman stood at the workbench. “I’m sorry, Miss Yana. Didn’t mean to frighten you.” He peered over her shoulder at the lock held tightly between her fingers with an expert craftsmen’s appraisal.

“What’s so important about this lock that you missed out on a night’s sleep?”

These were the questions that Yana didn’t want to answer just yet. Not in their entirety. Lock picking wasn’t entirely legal, and while she’s sure that no one would arrest her after hearing her story, she also can’t be certain that the guards wouldn’t storm the keep as soon as she made it known where the stronghold was.

The chance that Arthcamu, who was a wiry, slippery bastard, could escape was too great for Yana to allow.

So she smiled and gave an altered version of the truth. “I’ve designed a lock that I believe cannot be picked.” Yana tried her best to look embarrassed. “I was so excited that I finished my design that I couldn't sleep even if I tried.”

To her great relief Rustleif didn’t look doubtful, rather he appeared to be rather interested. “A lock that can’t be pick, eh? If it works, be sure to let me know.” A strange looked crossed his face and he backtracked. “I’m not trying to steal your work now. It’s just that such a thing… well, it’s a mastercraft really…”

“I plan to test it out after I get some sleep, either this evening or tomorrow evening. I’ll be sure to let you know.”

With that Yana took her leave, making sure to say her farewells and thanks to Saren before making her way back to the inn for some well deserved rest.

#

It was right before dawn when she awoke. The sun’s light was just a slight purple tint to the sky, and the air was biting with chill.

Abelone had been awake before she had even stirred and had set the girl up with breakfast before she made her way out the door and out of Dawnstar.

Though she had protested at the time, Yana was grateful to the warm food in her stomach as she trudged her way through the snow that had fallen through the night. It would take her a bit longer to arrive at the stronghold than it should. That didn’t matter, actually it was to her benefit. She would have to do this at the right time for it to work properly.

So she dragged her feet through the half foot deep snow, trying to keep happy thoughts on her mind. She really, really hoped the lock worked. At least the key she’d made to fit it worked like a charm, though she hadn’t the time to test it against the pick.

If it didn’t work she’d seem foolish as a mage summoning a Daedric Prince. Though at least Yana didn’t think that he’d kill her for something like that, not after she promised that she’d get out of his hair forever if he humored her. Thieves liked to rob more than to kill, dead people can’t make more money to take.

With Arthcamu though, one really couldn’t be sure.

If the lock didn’t work, she’d at least involve the guard. If it did work, she was definitely going to involve the guard. So either way, Yana was going to destroy the Aedra forsaken place.

The sun was about halfway through the sky by the time the stronghold came into view. Deep snow had about doubled the amount of time that the trip should have taken. Which meant that Yana wouldn’t have to sit around waiting just for time to pass.

As she stepped into to the old fort, Yana truly wished that she had had the training of a thief. Her footsteps rang out loudly in the stone halls, the only noise she could hear aside from her pounding heart.

Considering the time of day, Arthcamu was most likely in the room where they would practice picking locks. With the students reading theory books, and listening to the master’s advice amidst the clinking and clanking of metal against metal. So she made her way there.

Much to her relief Arthcamu was where she’d expected him to be, bent over the shoulder of an apprentice, growling at him that he’d have to pay to replace the amount of picks that he’d broken. She didn’t have to go wandering around the entire stronghold now.

The look on the thief's face when he turned and saw her was priceless. Yana schooled her reaction into a sweet smile and approached her former teacher.

“Hello, Arthcamu.” She approached him, aware that the apprentices were putting down their picks to watch their exchange. “I’ll be leaving shortly," she explained, quietly. “But I believe I’ve developed a new type of lock, and I'd be grateful if you'd give me your opinion of it.”

The elf sighed, seeming to resign himself that he’d have to interact with Yana once again. “Very well, what is it?”

“I was wondering if I might use the vampire room and install the lock. I think it would be better if I demonstrated it.”

Arthcamu paused, looking over the girl carefully. “Alright.” Finally he gave in, shifting through his pockets and handing her the key.

Yana nodded and gave her thanks before disappearing from his sight. She knew the way to the vampire room. That night was burned into her memory. Soon she stood before the heavy, wooden door. Her bag was heavy against her side, the lock and the tools she needed to install it were suddenly an almost unbearable burden.

Swallowing thickly, Yana reminded herself that the sun was still up. There was no way a blood starved vampire was awake at this hour of day. Stepping forward quietly she carefully slide the key into the hole and turned it slowly. Hand on the door, she pushed it slowly, wincing as the hinges creaked with years of disuse.

Seeing the dusty room still and empty aside from crate against the far wall filled Yana with relief. She’d almost expected to be assaulted by the vampire the moment she stepped into the room. The very small barred window that allowed a patch of sunlight into the room eased her worries and Yana got to work right away.

It took her all of the morning and most of the afternoon but finally the lock was installed. She’d had to remove the old lock, which had rusted to the metal supports in the door, as well as removed some of the wood to make room for her improved lock. It had been bigger than the old one.

However she was finally done. She wiped the sweat from her brow and left the room. It was time to summon Arthcamu.

He studied the lock with an expert eye, and found little to be impressed with.

"This is the first and only pick-proof lock," Yana explained. "The only way to open it is to have the right key."

“I doubt it.” Arthcamu scoffed, entering the room and allowing it to be locked behind him.

Yana smirked as the lock clicked shut. She stayed long enough to hear the small clicking noises of Arthcamu trying to pick the lock before she wandered off to her old quarters to take a well deserved nap.

By the time she woke again it was nearing nightfall. He didn’t have more than half an hour left to open the door. When she arrived at the vampire room she was satisfied to see that the door still remained stubbornly shut.

“I need to leave now,” called Yana from the other side of the door. “I’m going to bring the city guard to the stronghold. I know that it's against the rules, but I really think it’s for the welfare of the villagers not to have a hungry vampire on the loose. It’s getting dark, and even though you aren’t able to unlock the door, the vampire might be less proud about using the key to escape. Remember when you said ‘If I put the key to the lock right in front of you, you’d still never get around to opening it’?”

“Wait!” Arthcamu yelled back. “I’ll use the key! Where is it? You forgot to give it to me!”

Yana sighed as she heard the unmistakable sound of the lock pick snapping within the room and turned on her heel. She matched her steps with the pounding on the door as she left the hall.

#

Yana did call the guard to the stronghold. She’d made sure to leave plenty of time for them to get there before it was entirely dark. Yet when Jod, the captain of the guard in Dawnstar, had come to the inn to tell her about the stronghold, he’d said that the vampire wasn’t there.

“What do you mean he wasn’t there?” Yana asked. She knew there was a vampire in that room. The rustling hadn’t been her imagination. She’d opened the crate to check when she’d installed her special lock.

“Well, lass, we knew he’d been there. Drained all the thieves up there for us, he did, but we couldn’t find the bastard.”

Yana gaped in disbelief. “That’s… I…” She blinked, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean-”

Jod held up his hand, cutting her off. “Now, now. No one’s blaming you. You took out a whole pile of lowlifes,that makes you alright with me. It’s that Athcama’s fault for keeping a vampire anyway. Don’t you worry. We’ve doubled the guard patrols and sent word to the Champions and Dawnguard both, so rest easy lass.”

“I… yes, sir.” Yana watched the nord guard down the last of his tankard and make his way out of the inn.

She didn’t feel as easy about the vampire as the guard captain seemed to be. It’d be less frightening in the daylight so Yana made her way to the room that she had been given. Planning to sleep away her fears, Yana readied herself for bed.

Laying down on the furs she reached over and blew out the last candle in the room. Snuggling in the bed, she pulled a pelt over her body and sighed.

A yelp was smothered as a cold hand clamped down over her mouth. Yana struggled against whoever was holding her but they were as immovable as a stone. Lips brushed against her neck and Yana whimpered.

“Easy there.” A deep voice rasped in her ear. “I merely wanted to thank you for the meal and especially for the key.” The lips pressed a moist kiss against her neck and something smooth was shoved into her right hand.

She shuddered but as quickly as he had shown himself the vampire as gone. Yana tumbled out of her bed, slipping on the floor to her knees as she struggled to flee the room. Out in the fire light drenched main room Yana stilled. Leaning against a wooden support column she tried to catch her heaving breath.

It was then that she realized in horror that the vampire’s hands had been wet. Smeared across her shirt and arm was the vivid red of blood. Rubbing the back of her left hand across her mouth her trembling increased when it came away bloody. Within her right hand the key she’d made for the lock, the key that she’d placed on a strip of leather around the vampire’s neck, shined red in flickering light.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not sure what inspired this little snippet.


End file.
